Page 26 of Bathed in Blood

His mouth lands on my clit, feasting on it. My scream breaks off halfway as I explode, his tongue lapping at my cunt as I grind into him, riding out wave after wave of pleasure. Once my hips slow, my back collapsing from its arched position, he blows again, cool air assaulting my throbbing core. A bone deep shudder leaves me as my skin breaks out in goosebumps, my legs trembling as I loosen my death grip on the sheets.

“Fuck,” he curses. My head snaps down, expecting to find him angry as he lifts backing away. It couldn’t have been more wrong.

Strong, calculated, wild, and severe, Christian looks flustered, reverent. He drags his hand through his knotted hair, and I can see his self-control teeter, balancing on a blade.

Hurt me.

I can take it.

My heart drops as he roughly jerks his phone out of his pocket, holding it up in front of him. “What are you doing?”

The words are breathy; I want to close my legs to hide myself, but I stay still as he ignores me. The sound of a camera shudder wipes out my post-orgasm haze. “Why?”

“New phone. I’ve been meaning to change my wallpaper.”

My mouth pops open as I lift myself from the bed, the action pulling at my stitches. “You can’t!”

“Why not?” He taps on the phone a few more times before he holds it out for me to see.

I feel my cheeks darken further. I look… like someone else. He holds the phone steady as I readjust my clothes, crawling forward to get a better look. My red hair is fanned out and wild behind me, my eyes heavy with lust. There's color in my pale cheeks—real color, not the kind that someone painted on. Even my many bruises look prettier than they do when I look at them in the mirror. None of that is what makes an uncomfortable sensation settle in my gut. It’s the look in my eyes, a dangerous look.

It’s different seeing your own stupidity reflected back at you.

When I pull away, he locks his phone, pocketing it as if I might try to snatch it away. The thought of having my breasts and cunt on his phone is adding to that dangerous feeling, like this is more than it is, like it’s a mutual obsession.

“You should change that,” I whisper.

He groans as he adjusts his thick cock tented in his pants. “Not a chance.”

I smile.

Stupid Lana.

12

Heart

Christian

“The blood princess has resumed eating,” my father comments, staring intently at a handful of files as he shovels toast into his mouth.

My hand twitches to reach out and flip my phone face down. With my luck, the screen will wake up and show her to him. Turns out, setting her exposed body, as beautiful as it is, as my lock screen isn’t good for productivity.

I force neutrality to my face, despite the slur of red blaring lights and sirens sounding in my head.

“Perhaps next time, you won’t have such intense feelings about my methods.” I don’t mention those methods include taking time out of my day to feed her dinner, that I pop in at lunch when I can, that I reward her with mind shattering orgasms when I get word she finished her meals. I definitely don’t fucking mention that I wait until she falls asleep at night and gently scoot her over until she’s nestled against me.

He makes a noncommittal sound, taking a deep swallow of scalding coffee, his deeply scarred fingers on display. “Then sheshould be ready to return to work as soon as Dr. Lamaison gives her the all clear. We’ve readied her announcement stream; a coronation, Jesse called it. Quite clever.”

I open my mouth, some shitty excuse he won’t buy already formed on my tongue when he speaks first.

“You will find other hobbies to fill your time when she returns to work, yes?”

“My job will be done,” I respond carefully, because the idea of sending her back down into that bare basement room makes me want to see if I could fit his entire coffee mug down his throat.

I could. With a little work.

My phone buzzes, and I adjust, moving my newspaper over the screen, hiding the picture of Lana sleeping in my bed. She’s lying on her stomach, her face almost hidden beneath a curtain of red hair. I had to change it from the centerfold version after I killed a member of my security team for accidentally glimpsing it on my phone. I took the new picture a week ago, and hundreds since. It’s been a week and a half since I brought her back up to my room, since I realized I was falling, rapidly. Hurtling from fifty thousand feet, by the time I recognized my impending doom, I was already halfway down. With each day, it’s become glaringly obvious that I will hurt her.

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